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All 37.1 - Birth of the Few
The All have prepared an enormous ritual. The arcane spell is designed to expedite their claim on Materia. It will have two outcomes: convert the ambient nature of Materia and its creatures to that of the All’s home plane (essentially, a mass infliction of the fixing aura) and, should any creature resist this effect, shift those holdouts to the plane of the All, effectively dealing with anyone still alive and able to resist. In addition, the sheer force behind the spell is likely to be astronomical, since the energy is apparently drawn from the All’s plane itself; a spell of that size might detonate with enough arcane backlash to destroy everything for miles, or have unfathomable arcane aftereffects. The ritual would be devastating, and would mean the end of the planet. Foiling the spell might buy them time, but would do little to solve their problems. Between a layman’s guess from Cress and the knowledge of the others, a solution was postulated: if the polarity of the spell could be reversed, it might have the opposite effect: restore Mirilarin, and eject the powerful All from the plane. This could very well be the best, or only, chance of evicting the massive number of invaders. However, it is right in the heart of the All’s territory: well-guarded and watched. The ritual is not the only problem: the rift over Mirilarin is huge, spanning across nearly all of Asanon and into Riolythe and the Northlands. It will require more than one moon pearl to seal; to be precise, it will need three. Worse still: sealing the rift will not remove the enormous infestation of All, only prevent newcomers. The All knew they were there, in Mirilarin. The All knew what the sealing ritual looked like, and what it did. They would not allow them to attempt it uninterrupted. In fact, it might be just enough of a distraction to allow the doomsday ritual to be affected. The sealing ritual, though it can be maintained by anyone, must be conducted by a caster. A caster is also needed to attempt to rewrite the All’s doomsday spell. There are only four casters: Pierce, Cohen, Lucca and Nisa. Lucca has no training in arcane magic, and Cohen isn’t a true arcanist; neither of them possess the skill to alter and activate the ritual. Nisa lacks the power of an ascendant, and would be unable to affect the horrifying All if they found her. That only left one person. ---- “So, Percival Webber. You going to save the world?” Cohen said with an air of humour. The doctor had in his possession the ritual that had been used to create the elven people; his mood, despite the darkness of the hour, was better than it had been for the entirety of their quest. Pierce, for his part, looked shell-shocked. Fear was palpable in his eyes as the magnitude of his mission, and the fact that there was no one else who could perform it or even assist him, sunk in. Eventually, his face dropped forwards, looking blankly at the ground. He nodded his head. “I’m...the only one...” he said quietly. “That’s the long and short of it. Ms. Redfern, if you would, please stay in Riolythe with Cress here and conduct the sealing ritual. These two can handle the Northland side, and Komatsu and I will seal eastern Asanon.” Cohen carried on, and the group discussed strategy. They decided to try and stall out the echo: they needed to prepare spells and rest before the assault, and if their guesses were correct, the echo was the safest, shortest way to ready themselves before the assault. Pierce was quiet, absorbed in his notes, trying to deduce how on gods’ dear earth he was going to manage the task laid out before him. He tried to focus on the spell, on its minor nuances spread through its massive array. He would need to change its entire purpose, reverse its intent entirely, in as many tiny changes as he could manage in a few short minutes. Without accidentally triggering it. While being attacked. Knowing that a mistake would literally destroy the plane. He struggled to maintain his focus. He thought of his wife, and his daughters. He thought of his employees, across the country; of his brother and sisters, and their children, and all their friends. He thought of everyone. Everyone was a lot of people. More people than just Materia too; it would destroy Etheria as well. Harlequin and Gemini and Whale Mage. Sienna. He stepped out of the room into the hallway. Quietly, he summoned his eidolon. “Pfeh. Been a while. Let me guess, another battle?” Sienna said, looking around flatly. “What’s this place then; another one of those echoes?” “Ye-yeah…” Pierce said, gaze firmly at the floor, looking ill-at-ease. Raising an eyebrow, Sienna looked at him derisively, “What’s got your tail in a knot, pretty Percy? He kept his silence for another moment before saying, “...There’s going to be a fight. The last fight.” He looked up at her and explained, “They’ve made a huge spell, in the center of Mirilarin. A spell that would destroy the plane. I have to stop it. I have to rewrite it, change it so that this mile-wide ritual will eject the All instead of us, unfreeze Mirilarin instead of freeze the whole world. And I have to do it myself. Everyone else needs to seal the rift, and distract the All from me while I change it.” She looked at him, expression inscrutable as he finished, “...This is it. This is the end. If I manage it, the world is safe; the rifts are sealed, the All are gone and everyone is alive again. If I don’t...there’s nothing left. The All have won.” “And yer gonna do this? Yer gonna take responsibility for the whole world?” Sienna asked, a bit harshly. “I don’t think the world has much choice, in who takes responsibility for it…” he said quietly. “Cohen’s not a true caster; Lucca has no arcane training; Nisa…” he paused as Sienna made a face of confusion, “Nisa is a woman who just came with us now; she’s an undead wizard, who bought the boat from us in exchange for a moon pearl. She could probably do it, but she’s not ascended. She can’t harm the All, so she would be completely defenseless if she went. Might not even have the ability to touch their spell, without an ascendant’s power. So...the three of them need to seal the rift, and since they can’t move or defend, Cress, Victor and Ryuji have to protect them. That’s...that’s really it...there’s no time to waste, no time to get anyone else…” He held up his arms in a defeated gesture, “I’m it.” Sienna looked at him for a few seconds before correcting him. “We’re it.” “Huh?” She gave a feral sort of grin, “We’re it, pretty Percy. So we’re gonna do it. Now, what’s the plan?” Pierce looked at her blankly before managing a weak smile of his own. “I think...I think I have an idea of what I’m trying to do. I...need some more time. If I can get in close again, have a bit of time to look at it, before the rest begin, then I’ll have a better idea of what I have to do. Thank every god of every plane that arcana is the same in every language, or I don’t know what I’d do…” He exhaled heavily, “Once they start to seal the rift, the hope is that the All will divide themselves, and turn their attention to them and not notice me. The longer I can go unnoticed, the better. Nisa is going to disguise herself as me, since they know me well by now, and would probably notice if I was suddenly missing.” He turned back to Sienna’s gaze, “I have to go in alone.” Sienna bristled, “What? What stupid…?” “At the beginning!” Pierce cut her off, holding up his hands. “At the beginning. I have to stay hidden. If...when, my cover is blown, I’ll call you to me. That’s when I’ll really need your help, because gods know what I’m going to do if they come after me. And they will.” Gritting her teeth, Sienna eventually nodded. “The second somethin’ goes south…” “I will call you. I promise. I’m not…” he stopped mid-sentence and gave a tiny squeak of laughter, “I...I guess I am trying to be a hero. Heh. Heh heh.” He rubbed his eyes. Sienna looked at him seriously. “That’s the plan then? Keep yer head down till they spot ya, then pray to Chaos that luck is with you? Hope to the Outer Planes that you’re a good enough fancy-ass wizard to find the gaps and turn their whole ruddy spell around, and they give ya enough time to make it?” Pierce nodded sadly. Sienna huffed, “...Simple at least…” She looked at him, expression odd again. Eventually she said, “You know...we’re probably gonna die, right?” His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “Probably isn’t the right word…” He paused before explaining, “You know...how spells...poof? Or sparkle, or...something, when a spell is cast?” “Yeah…” Hugging himself, staring into the middle distance, he said, “That’s a force feedback. All spells do it, usually. This spell is massive. The feedback could be a ‘poof’ that levels city blocks, or a ‘sparkle’ that scorches a five mile radius. I...we’re...we’re going to be right there. We’re standing at ground zero.” He looked at the ground, “We’re not going to make this, even if we save the world.” Sienna’s expression remained blank. She stood silently for a while before finally asking, “Yer still gonna do it?” “I have to. I can’t choose not to. Not with everything at stake,” he said hoarsely. She nodded seriously, “Then better do it right, Percival, ‘cause you only get one shot. And the rest of us’ll make sure you get the time to take it.” Pierce looked at her, then nodded slowly himself. Gesturing with his head, he motioned to the door. “The others are inside. They probably have more of a plan by now; you can get it from them, if you’d like..” Sienna looked at him, gave a single nod of assent, and went inside. Alone in the hallway, Pierce continued to hug himself tightly. Taking a few staggered steps, he leaned up against the wall and slid down to the floor. Tears rolled down his face as he curled in on himself. “Mila…” he whispered. ---- Pierce sat on the flying broom, covered in enchantments hiding his sight, smell and thoughts. He stared at the spell, looking for weaknesses, looking for signs, looking for the little loopholes he’d have to exploit. It was a dumb idea: an idea from someone who had never cast a cantrip. But it was the only idea, and he had to make it happen. The spell was covered in small, bronze creatures. Worms? Pill bugs? Armadillos? They had smooth, plated backs, but he couldn’t make out their body shape. They were making the spell. Somehow. How the All did anything was beyond him. It looked like the runes were made of metal, being spit out and formed by whatever these things were. How was he even supposed to change the runes? The ground looked odd, where they were building the spell. It didn’t register immediately, but when it did, he was surprised it hadn’t come to him earlier. The ground wasn’t fixed. The brown-grey dirt or powdered stone, whatever it was, didn’t quite match the rest of the greyed-out, sepia landscape. Why was that area spared? As he watched, it came to him. The creatures weren’t making the runes. They were digging them. Digging rune-shaped trenches and filling them with metal...no, liquid. The same mercurial fluid that filled the arcane Totality. They wanted to affect the plane, so they had to cast it on the plane itself, without their taint. They were branding the spell in the earth and fueling it with All arcana, bonding the two planes. Clever. Pierce allowed himself a small smile. It could be edited. He wished he had a shovel. He stared at the runes. His mind swam with possibilities, unable to focus on any one thing. What changes had to be made? Could they ever possibly work? How he was going to move across the surface of the spell? How was he supposed to change it without the workers noticing? Would the All would consider him a bigger threat than the rift being sealed? How was he even supposed to cast this thing? He hoped to gods he could do this. Somehow. He hoped that the others could seal the rift. He hoped Mila, Janine and Adelle would be ok without him. It was nearly time. He had decided what he was going to try. Wait for an opportunity, he thought. Keep my head down until they spot me. Dodge and hope to hell the gods are giving me all the good luck they have to give. It was time. Nothing changed. Give them a second. Give them another. Three wouldn’t hurt… Suddenly, the writhing multitude stopped. In a sudden instant, they rushed to the outskirts of the spell, stacking onto one another. They were forming a wall. They were forming a dome. Without any time to consider the outcome, Pierce urged the broom forward and down, dodging into the center as the bronze creatures made a protective bubble over the spell. He prayed in the darkness that they hadn’t noticed him, hadn’t felt the disturbance of air, but nothing seemed to happen. The others must have been spotted: the All were defending the spell, not considering that something may have already gotten inside. As Pierce’s eyes adjusted, he noticed that the silvery liquid glowed gently in the dark. He smiled again. Thank the gods: their luck was with him. Taking a breath, he urged the broom towards the first spot he had noticed, the first of many changes he’d have to make. The trick was to change as little as possible: one rune here, one rune there. How to flip a spell end to end, without changing anything else. He took his staff: the Staff of the Dragon King, once held by a mighty lord. Most of his current possessions were his, or his in spirit: the powerful enchantments had been stripped from the original items and put on more tasteful clothing. Mila always jokingly told him he was vain, and he never denied it. The staff he hadn’t touched, so complicated was its construction, so it was still as it had been for hundreds or thousands of years, since the Dragon King had held it. The gnolls thought he was supposed to be the reincarnation of this king, that he was supposed to lead them to greatness. What a joke that was. But the staff had a stylized dragon on one end, and a sharpish point on the other: it was no shovel, but the ancient relic of leadership and arcane strength would do in a pinch. Hovering over his target, he drove the end into the ground. Nothing happened, other than a new dent in the earth. With as much speed and accuracy as he could manage, he dug out a chunk of ground, the mercurial liquid pooling into the enlarged hole. With the shape changed to his satisfaction, a new rune emblazoned to take the old one’s place, he moved to the next. Teleporting would be faster, but he didn’t want to risk their attention. Slowly, he flew the broom over to his next target where he repeated the maneuver. Were they not watching? He was met with no resistance as he changed a second, third, fourth rune. Maybe the armoured diggers were blind. Maybe they were so focused on outwards, they were neglecting to look in. He did not relax, could not relax, as he worked feverishly to alter the spell. It must have been more than two minutes, by now. How long had he been in here? He didn’t know. The others must still be diverting the All, if they had been successful in sealing the rift. He had to keep working. There were gaps, here and there. Parts that hadn’t been finished. He struggled to fill them, to complete the spell the way he wanted. He didn’t have whatever that metallic liquid was though; maybe it would still work without it? Maybe he could transfer part of some of the filled runes to the empty ones? Not the highest priority right now, he thought, focus. Minutes passed, followed by more. Are you alive? Is it working? Cohen’s voice asked in his head: a Sending spell. “Need more time,” he hissed, trying not to be heard. It must be close to an hour now. He refreshed his Invisibility when it called for it. In all of his wildest dreams, he hadn’t expected this much time. He was nearly done. Well, as done as he was ever going to get. Who know what this monstrosity of a spell would do when it was activated? He still hadn’t figured out what to do about the lack of mercury. Suddenly, a sound caught his attention. A flash of light. The wall! The creatures were moving; the barrier was dissolving as the armoured creatures returned to their tasks. No, no no, what if they change it back?! Pierce looked about frantically. He had to cast it: his window was closing. But how?? How do you cast something this big?? He couldn’t, it was beyond him, beyond his power. Despair came as a wave as he realized this. That in the end, for all of his talk of being the caster of the group, he was powerless. Of course, he thought. I’m not an adventurer. I’m not a wizard or sorcerer or… He paused in his thoughts. No. No, I’m not… ...but I am a summoner. And, if nothing else, I’m good at talking. It was really the only hope he had. He didn’t have the skills for anything else. He could run, but where would that get anyone? He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t cast. The armored creatures crumbled away, returning to the ground and their tasks. The ones that reached where Pierce had made changes paused, and confusion rippled through the legion. There were some sort of flying All in the skies, swarming about protectively, and more All further away: huge creatures guarding the perimeter. As he slowly sunk to the ground, riding the broom, Pierce closed his eyes and touched ground. He dropped the broom, and dropped his Invisibility along with it. The armoured creatures stopped moving: the surprise of the All was palpable. There was a full second of stillness. The bronze creatures sprung into fluid action: they piled upon each other, forming a massive, solid creature, armed with a plethora of bronzed tentacles, that menaced overhead. “I want to help!” Pierce yelled, stopping the All in its tracks as it reached for him. It coiled around the place where he stood, cutting off escape, but did not grab him. “I want to help,” he said again. The flying All swooped in closer, staring at him with large, singular eyes, their pupils a curious helical shape. He could hear them whispering, all of them whispering, “Banisher. The Banisher. You were elsewhere. How are you here?” His mouth twitched subtly, “They sealed the rift, didn’t they?” he asked. “They sealed it, and this spell is your last hope of fixing Materia.” The All ruffled simultaneously. “You changed it! What did you change? Why did you change it? Why don’t you want our help?” “Oh, you’re wrong. I do want your help. I need it actually.” “Banisher. Opposer. We will help. We will fix everything. We will fix all of the broken parts and make it All, and remove the Opposers so All will be whole. All will come. All of the fractions without shards, without pieces, without shreds, will be made whole. Opposers are destroyed. As in All, as will be here. Remove Opposers. Remove the seven fractional Opposers, and the fractional Tainted. Remove the Banisher. The Destroyer escaped. The Banisher will not.” Pierce couldn’t help but smile. “Heh. You’ve given me a name too, then? I’m the Banisher now?” He choked up on the staff in his hand, clutching it near the ornamented head tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Keep talking. Don’t show fear. “Some other people called me the Dragon King. Better than Percy, I suppose, but I still prefer Pierce. Now!” he spoke up once more. “I finished your spell!” “No!” The All ruffled and flinched. “It’s not right!” “It’s better!” Pierce smiled. He put his other hand over the staff’s head, clutching the polished, pointed effigy of a dragon, covered in dirt from where he had used it as a spade. “I’m helping!” he yelled. “I’m helping you! This will be over!” The All were still confused, the human’s odd behaviour confusing it. “Why does the Opposer not fight? Why does the Opposer not run? Opposers fight and run!” “I want to help!” “We want to help.” “Remember that!!” he shouted. Pierce, still smiling, mumbled to himself, to the air, “Drama and luck, drama and luck, everything runs on drama and luck.” He sliced his hand open with the sharp end of staff; his blood ran down his palm as he dropped the staff and plunged his hands down towards the ground, sticking it in the mercurial liquid that the All somehow used for their magic. The ichorous fluid burned his hands with a fire and a sickening tingle. “Blood and power, that’s all spells really want,” he said with a wince. He felt the surge of power as he called upon his ascendancy strength. “I’ve got your drama. Give me some luck, and we’ll end this story right.” He did not try to activate the ritual. It was too large. It would take too much energy, too much time, too much skill. It was beyond him. But summoning wasn’t. He was a summoner, after all. But he needed to summon something strong. Something that could cast the spell. Only one thing really came to mind. Normally, he’d have no idea how to even begin. It would probably be beyond him entirely. Probably impossible. But this was no time to consider what was possible, was it? And right now, he had a material component that no one had ever had before. And besides: it wanted to help. Pierce summoned Totality. The fountain-like creature floated before him, whose body flowed with the same metallic fluid that filled the ground, which had acted as a focus for him. The All screamed in confusion, shouting a hundred thousand garbled threats and yells, about the Banisher, the Opposer. Totality was Tainted; that was impossible, but it was true, but it could not be. The Banisher’s will must be followed but could not, should not, must not, has to be followed. “Cast it!” Pierce yelled over the din. “By the contract I’ve summoned you, cast it!!” The All, with its multitudes divided in confusion, did not react in time. Totality, though its mind was connected to the All, was bound by the commands of its summoner. It was a creature of pure arcana. It was tied to the power of the All. The spell was its own, and so was no great deal to cast. Tendrils of mercury flowed from it to the ground, and an ominous flash flew up from the runes as they ignited. Pierce closed his eyes. “Mila…” ---- An endless, crowded scape of metallic grey. A flattened stretch of dirt that had once been a city. Both, and neither. Pierce couldn’t feel anything; at the same time, he felt everything. A complete lack of body paired with an overwhelming amount of mind. Even in this vague state, Pierce couldn’t help but think that he had apparently doomed not one, but both planes. It was a heartbreaking disappointment, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but cynically feel as though it was no real surprise that he had ruined everything. As he existed in this timeless state, he began to notice the depth of sensation he possessed. He was part of something much, much greater than himself. He could feel...others. Others wasn’t right. A multitude of shared thoughts and perceptions. They were his and his were theirs and there wasn’t much differentiating between any of it. Was he dead? He thought he remembered a bit too much to be properly dead. But what did he know about being dead? He was part of something though. What was his role in this? Every inch of the multitude had a purpose; that he knew. He must have one too. You are not All. A sudden, jarring realization. His? Someone else’s? Everyone’s? It was true. He wasn’t. Why not? You are not. But...why? You are not. A smaller voice: You know you are not. Why ask why? Then...what am I? Not All. Not a Fraction. Not an Opposer do not resist our design. Not a Tainted Opposer controls you. You are not wrong, but you do not fit. You do not belong with All. You are not All. You will not interfere with All design. You are not Opposed. You are not Tainted. You are not meant to be fixed. If you are not meant to be fixed, and are not All, then you must always be Elsewhere that is a place we know now, where things that are not All are: Elsewhere. is an awful place. You are banished. Wasn’t I the Banisher? You are not. The Banisher was an Opposer. Banished Banisher. You are Banish. Maybe All will make more Banish. True Banish. They are powerful. ---- Suddenly, Pierce was looking at the dirt inches from his nose. Everything was gone. He had been connected to everything. As suddenly as it had been, it was over. He was alone, abandoned, blind and deaf, tiny compared to what had been: a loss so great that it couldn’t be expressed. He screamed. Eventually, he stopped. He had to stop. Pull yourself together. Remember. Remember...before. Remember...everything...before that. There was a before, it was important. Remember who you were, what you were doing… Mila! He remembered. But he was...confused? He didn’t remember. But… It took him a minute, to realize that the confusion was not his. It took him a minute to realize that he wasn’t alone. Not remotely alone. Compared to the All, certainly. He was a lost little speck of consciousness compared to the All. But...but he remembered being human. Being truly alone. This was certainly not that. There were still All here. Not All anymore. Lost, confused remnants, separated from everything they had ever known. The spell...the spell must have converted them, made them Materian, somehow, someway. The opposite of the original intent: to make Materians into All. Pierce could hear them, see them, feel them. Was them. They didn’t understand. They hadn’t been Materian before. They only knew that they were different: banished and alone. Shares. Responses. Completes. The weak ones. Only the weak ones remained. The ones not powerful enough to resist the spell. The ones not strong enough to be sent back to their plane. It wasn’t their plane anymore. Scared and weak and alone. Pierce clutched his arms tightly, overwhelmed by the terror felt by the wretched remnants of the All invasion. He could see through them. He could see them clearly, scattered across the continent; more of them were in Asanon than anything else, in the ring where they had been working outwards to sort out the mess. But they were everywhere: in forests, fields, mountains, cities. Cities. Pierce could see people moving, awake. Terrified themselves. Redoubling the fear felt by the confused, lost creatures. They didn’t know what was going on. No one did. But Peirce knew. He knew what had happened. Worse: he knew what was going to happen. What people did when they were confused and scared. The abandoned ones didn’t; they didn’t remotely understand the terrible danger they were in. The Completes were barely children in comprehension; the others no more than animals. He had to do something. He was one of them, and he wouldn’t let them be destroyed by confused, frightened people. He had to protect them. He could see people already levelling weapons: Asonian, Yetoman, elven and hobgoblin. How many could he possibly save? All of them, he resolved. Category:Advent of the All